


the greatest escape

by Mizzy



Category: Labyrinth (1986), Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-14
Updated: 2012-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-29 12:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizzy/pseuds/Mizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah's been moving (running) from town to town, but Storybrooke's her oddest find yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the greatest escape

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dancing_badly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancing_badly/gifts).



> Written for pirateveronica for onceuponaland's Secret Santa exchange. <3

Storybrooke, Maine.

A new start.

It's not perhaps the town Sarah would have chosen on her own. It's a little too small, a little too sweet. It's what her mom used to call a Cheers town. _Where everybody knows your name,_ she sings ironically under her breath, _but they're not always glad you came._

She's a beggar not a chooser. She couldn't stay in her hometown anymore. No one needed her there, not since her little brother got married, and she can teach kindergarten anywhere. She's tried a few towns since, and she's hopeful Storybrooke might be the right fit.

Her colleague, Mary Margaret, is a summary of the town - sweet and idealistic, enthusiastic and earnest. It's a town where you can only hide in full view.

But there's something off about Storybrooke. It's nothing Sarah can put into words straight away. It's like... being an extra in a movie. Everyone else in the town is spilling around, driven by narratives that Sarah can't have any part in.

It doesn't take long for Sarah to start to feel just as lonely as she did in Long Island. She finds herself wandering the sidewalks aimlessly, feeling like she's just waiting for something to happen.

She's felt like this before. But last time she was stupid enough to wish for something to change, bad things happened. Terrible things happened.

It's on one of these wanders when she finds herself in the weirdest little store. The objects are varied and strange, and for a pawn shop it's filled with the oddest of objects. Two marionettes which give her the creeps. Little pieces of people's lives, hung up and displayed, crowded and almost macabre. Sarah's already scared, already backing out, when a man pops up behind the main counter, a wide smile on his face. Like he can taste her fear and it's a taste to desire.

"Sarah, isn't it?" The man's voice is sibilant, vibrant. "Sarah Williams? I'm Mr. Gold. Welcome to my store."

Sarah flashes him a nervous smile. "Hi there. I was just... browsing."

"Hmmm." Mr. Gold stays behind the counter, tapping his manicured fingernails against a glass case. "I don't think I have in stock any cures for loneliness."

"How did-" Sarah bites back the rest of the sentence. It's not a good idea to give too much away. She's learned that lesson before. "Well, maybe you can page me if you find one," she says, like it's a joke.

The store is not as vibrant as Mr. Gold's voice. Her words fall flat, like they're not a joke at all. Mr. Gold inclines his head, and Sarah mumbles a goodbye and runs out of there.

She nearly manages to forget the whole thing until a week later. She's in the corner of Red's, a sweet cafe where Sarah almost always ends up being pushed into a corner. Even when all the other tables are free. She usually buys dinner there. The owner cooks like a dream, like Sarah imagines a mom might cook. Or a grandmother. Sarah's mom never cooked - too busy on the stage, in Hollywood - and her grandmother never left Indiana, not even to come meet her granddaughter.

No one pays her any attention. Not even Mary Margaret. It's like Sarah's not supposed to be there, and the town en masse knows it somehow. Sarah pulls out her ordered-in copy of the New York Times, idly flicking through the job section, when her little table jolts, splashing some of her coffee over her half-eaten pie.

She looks over the top of her paper, startled, to see Mr. Gold sat across from her.

"Apologies," he says, gesturing at her spilt coffee. "I'll get you another-"

"No, it's fine," she says, folding her newspaper awkwardly. She tries a polite smile. It feels forced, unnatural, but Mr. Gold doesn't say anything about how uncomfortable she must look. "How are you?"

He smiles at her politeness. "Tonight's not about me," he says. "I've had a certain item come into my store. Items, if you will. I thought of you."

 _Ah,_ Sarah thinks. _First time someone approaches me in public and it's to sell me something._

Mr. Gold tilts his head. "I can't sell them. But I thought of you. Perhaps you might take them off my hands. You saw how cluttered my store is; sometimes it's cheaper to give things away rather than pay for extra storage."

Sarah blinks. "Oh. Um. Thanks for thinking of me, but-"

"Don't you want to see?" Mr. Gold reaches into his pocket, and Sarah tenses, unconsciously reaching for her fork just in case, but Mr. Gold doesn't pull out a gun. Sarah needs to sort out her overactive imagination. It's not a weapon at all. It's... three crystal balls. Mr. Gold holds out his palm towards her, the three spheres spinning on his palm easily. "Maybe you can learn some tricks. Dazzle the kids."

Sarah's halfway through holding her hand out for them, almost entranced by the way the light catches them. And then a memory takes hold of her, reminding her what she's running from - the rest of the memories. Staying in that house which her father and stepmom grudgingly sold her was too much. Seeing Toby regularly was too much. It was all a reminder of what she had to fear in life.

Jareth never left her alone. Not for long.

And maybe this Mr. Gold isn't Jareth. Maybe he doesn't even know the Goblin King. Maybe this is a genuine offer of a trinket, something innocent.

But Sarah's learned never to take deals at face value.

No one wants nothing for something.

She pulls her hand back. "No. No thank you." She swallows. Mr. Gold's face freezes, like he's not expecting it. There's something familiar about his face. Something which reminds her painfully of Jareth. "I don't deal with people like you. You always want more than anyone should ever give."

"Merely a trifle," Mr. Gold protests, but his voice is thinner now, and they can both hear the lie in it. He pauses. Then settles back in the chair with a laugh. "You've had dealings with my kind before."

Sarah doesn't say anything, but her silence is as much of an answer as anything. "I guess so," she says, because she's not sure what Mr. Gold's type is.

"I could keep him off your back," Mr. Gold says, perceptively. "The way you run," he explains, "small town to small town? No one escapes an army like that. No, you're escaping a singular someone. And I can keep him off your back permanently." He smiles, showing his teeth. "What do you say?"

"Same thing I told him." Sarah pushes back from the table, and looks down at him coolly. "You have no power over me."

He shrinks back from the words, and Sarah smiles, coldly. "Good night, Mr. Gold."

She grabs her newspaper and stalks out of the cafe, leaving it far behind. She'll leave Storybrooke. She doesn't belong, after all. But maybe she'll settle down in the next place. Her words and will are apparently weapon enough for all the evil characters out there.


End file.
